


The Mandalorian Plot

by Chi-chi-chimaera (gestalt1)



Series: Mand'alor the Peacemaker [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Pacifism or Neutrality pick one, Warrior Mandalore AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gestalt1/pseuds/Chi-chi-chimaera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://chi-chi-chimera.tumblr.com/post/142074258985/fixing-mandalore"> this </a> discussion between myself and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight"> sparklight </a>. What if Mandalore had remained a militaristic people, split between the expansionist warmongers of Death Watch, and Satine's insular neutrality?</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Obi-wan was unsure as to why the Council had asked him to attend this meeting, but it was clear from the expressions of the Masters and the tone of the Force that this was a serious matter. It was Yoda who took the lead, and spoke first.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Aware of the Council of Neutral Systems you are?”</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Yes Master,” Obi-wan replied. Already he had some idea of why he personally had been contacted. It was to do with his... particular history. “Some have taken to calling them the New Mandalorian Empire.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Obi-wan was unsure as to why the Council had asked him to attend this meeting, but it was clear from the expressions of the Masters and the tone of the Force that this was a serious matter. It was Yoda who took the lead, and spoke first.

“Aware of the Council of Neutral Systems you are?”

“Yes Master,” Obi-wan replied. Already he had some idea of why he personally had been contacted. It was to do with his... particular history. “Some have taken to calling them the New Mandalorian Empire.”

“Something which their Mand'alor stridently denies,” Mace Windu said. He steepled his fingers in front of him. “However, I have some reason to believe she is being less truthful than she claims.”

“And what precise reason might that be, Master Windu?” Obi-wan asked. He held his arms behind his back despite the instinctive desire to cross them over his chest. He knew how that would be interpreted; as defensiveness, and with due cause. He could not say himself that he wasn't feeling that way. 

“On a recent mission I was attacked by an individual in Mandalorian beskar'gam,” Mace continued. “This individual was clearly working for the Separatists – or at least working to advance their aims.”

“This is _most_ troubling,” Obi-wan said – although that would be putting it mildly. Mandalore might not invade other planets any more, but they were far from a peaceful people. There were fifteen-hundred systems in their Protectorate, and they guarded those planets fiercely. If they had decided they were no longer neutral, but should come down on one side or other of the Galactic Civil War they could turn the tide of it completely. 

“Take advantage of your old friendship, we would,” Master Yoda told him. “Allowed on Mandalore, most Jedi are not. An exception for you may be made.”

“I'm flattered you think I made such an impression on Duchess Satine,” Obi-wan said. “But that was a long time ago.”

“A choice we do not have,” Yoda told him sharply. “Allow Mandalore to join the Separatists we cannot.”

“Then as ever I am at the Council's disposal,” Obi-wan said, aware that further discussion of the matter would not change the Council's decision. He could not deny that they might be correct either. Satine – or rather, Mand'alor the Peacemaker, as he should more properly think of her – had a powerful charisma and magnetism about her which had been present even when she was a mere teenager. He himself had not been immune to that. Had she asked it of him, the boy he had once been would have been willing to give up the Jedi Order itself for her. But she had not asked it. He could not be sure that his memories didn't have the rosy haze of youthful infatuation – that to be precise it had not in fact been mutual. 

But he had to try. For all the reasons he had been thinking of. For the Republic. Duty was not meant to be comfortable, it simply was. 

“Overtures to the Mandalorian Ambassador will be made,” Plo Koon said. “We will let you know the results of that shortly.”

\----

Somewhat to Obi-wan's surprise, the Council's overtures had been met quiet favourably. He spent the hyperspace journey to Mandalore refreshing his memory on the particulars of the planet's recent history. Some of it was still very familiar to him – the Civil War between the Old and New Mandalorian factions, which had culminated in the duel for the position of Mand'alor. A duel which Satine had roundly won, before giving a stirring speech to the assembled heads of all the Mandalorian family Houses about her vision for Mandalore's future. There was a reason the Jedi had lent their support to her and it would be naïve to pretend it had been a purely neutral act. Ever since the Galactic Republic had forced Mandalore to become a part of it roughly seven centuries ago the planet had been looking for an opportunity to reclaim its independence. It was only the nature of that independence which was of debate to its populace. 

Thus the New Mandalorians, and the Old Mandalorians. The former believed that Mandalorian virtues of self-sufficiency and self-determination were so important that they should also be extended to non-Mandalorian peoples. The latter... well, the Old Mandaloians viewed the rest of the galaxy as irrelevant, lesser, only there to be conquered. The Republic had rested easy for many years in the knowledge that the line of Mand'alors had all been supporters of the New Mandalorians. Many of them had been from House Kryze. It was not until the death of Satine's mother made her the new head of House Kryze at the age of sixteen that trouble reared its ugly head. 

The Jedi knew of old just how dangerous an expansionist Mandalore could be. Their course of action was clear. 

So really, wasn't Obi-wan merely doing the same thing once again now? He had no illusions, if Satine had changed her mind about the future of Mandalore – although he would find that very hard to believe – then joining the Separatists would only be the first step on the way to rebuilding an Empire. 

Yes, he would find Satine joining the Separatists hard to believe – but not impossible. After all, she had taken the start of the Galactic Civil War as an opportunity to leave the Republic, much as the Separatists had... it was only that she had done so with the stated aim of neutrality, and had never sent Mandalorian troops outside of their own territories. The troubling thing was how that territory had grown in the years since. Obi-wan would never criticise the government of any planet for seeking a way out of this terrible war, but swearing fealty to Mand'alor the Peacemaker hardly seemed any better than giving in to Dooku! 

Perhaps he was being unfair to Satine. After all, _she_ was certainly no Sith. And although the Senate and the Chancellor would love to have proved otherwise, there was no evidence that any planet had ever been pressured into joining the Council of Neutral Systems. Far from it – in some cases they literally fought for the privilege. Rumour said that was the only way to get a seat at the table when it came to council decision making, although how many decisions were actually ever made was debatable. Obi-wan was no expert on Mandalorian culture, but they were notoriously decentralised. Individual Houses, planets, and protectorates tended to be left rather to their own devices. Only in military matters did the Mand'alor demand obedience. 

Under the New Mandalorians they were also very insular. Obi-wan set aside his dataslate with a sigh. Very little information seemed to have come out of Mandalorian space ever since their secession. He would have preferred to know more, but he would simply have to work with what was available. 

They would be arriving in-system soon. He had to prepare himself. This was a diplomatic mission, and he had grown too used to war.

\----

Obi-wan set his Aethersprite down on the landing platform he had been assigned by the local air-traffic control and exited to find a Mandalorian Honour Guard waiting for him, in full beskar'gam with a crest of feathers at the back of his helmet, marking him as part of the Mand'alor's personal retinue. He wasn't sure whether he should be flattered at the trust shown by sending only one guard, or take offence that they thought a single warrior capable of taking on a Jedi Master. On the other hand, Jango Fett had been capable of that feat, as Obi-wan could personally attest. 

“The Mand'alor awaits you, General Kenobi,” the man said, gesturing to the waiting speeder parked at his side. 

“Far be it for me to keep the Mand'alor waiting,” Obi-wan replied, climbing aboard. All around them was the bustling business of a city, sentients of all colours and species rushing here and there and creating a low hubbub of voices. The speeder took them out into equally busy lanes of sky-traffic, although they circumvented most of them to head straight for the massive double-doors of what had to be the Mand'alor's palace. All told it was a short journey. As he was led inside the building Obi-wan took note of the other guards and defences scattered around the building, some more visible than others. At least the Force gave him an edge there, as many would likely have gone undetected to his eyes alone. 

He was not made to wait to see Satine. The guard took him straight to her throne room, a high hall draped with the banners of Mand'alors past and of House Kryze. The lady herself was seated on a golden throne upon a dais – a piece of furniture more delicate in appearance than he might have expected from a warrior people. Satine was dressed in the traditional robes of the Mand'alor over beskar'gam. A similar crest of feathers to her guard – if much larger – wreathed her otherwise bare head, and looking more closely as he approached Obi-wan noted it also had flowers woven into it. Appropriate to her title of Peacemaker then. 

She was not, of course, alone. 

“General Kenobi,” the man at the foot of the stairs said, in greeting. He too wore beskar'gam, but was helmeted, giving his voice that characteristic rasp. “I am Administrator Almac. Welcome to Mandalore.”

“A pleasure to meet you Administrator,” Obi-wan replied. 

“Mand'alor the Peacemaker welcomes you as a servant of the people,” the man continued. “Although we are all concerned that your Senate feels the need to interfere in the sovereign affairs of Mandalore.”

“Does the Mand'alor lack the voice to speak to me herself?” Obi-wan asked, keeping his voice mild. As he had hoped, Satine laughed. 

“As bold as I remember,” she said. “It's good to see you again Obi-Wan.”

“I wish it could be under better circumstances m'lady,” Obi-wan replied, bowing slightly. “After all these years you're more beautiful than ever. But sadly this is not a social call. I'm here on official business for the Jedi Council – _not_ for the Republic Senate.”

“That much is the only reason you are here at all,” Satine said. “Apparently you doubt our commitment to neutrality. I tell you now, _Jedi_ , there is no way Mandalore will join your war, on your side _or_ that of the Separatists.” There was neither doubt nor lie in what she had said – the Force rang clear as a bell with her honesty. But as much as Obi-wan might wish to simply take that as his answer and return with it to the Council, things were not so simple.

“I wonder, Mand'alor,” he said, “is that the view of _all_ your people?”

Administrator Almac snorted. “If you refer to the Old Mandalorians, they were exiled to our moon Concordia years ago. They hold no power in our territories.”

“Is it correct that no Mandalorian warrior is permitted to leave your borders?” Obi-wan asked, pretending to accept that answer and change the subject. The Force had been a great deal less clear on _Almac's_ point. 

“No,” Satine replied. “I would never constrain a sentient's right of choice like that. If anyone is restricting our borders with Republic space, it is your own government. But there's a reason you're asking this question Obi-wan. What is it?”

“Recently another Jedi Master encountered a Separatist saboteur, attacking one of our Republic cruisers. A Mandalorian.” He retrieved a holoprojector from one of his belt pockets and held it out for all to see. The security footage which had been retrieved from the ship was unmistakable. Beskar'gam was not easily faked – and very easily recognised. 

“This must be some kind of imposter,” Satine said. Anger made her voice sharp as crystal. “No Mandalorian would agree to work with the Separatists, even as a mercenary. I have made my position on this matter clear to _all_ my people. We don't associate ourselves with cowards and greedy fools who hold a credit chip in higher esteem than a person.”

“The man was taken prisoner, but he took his own life rather than submit to questioning,” Obi-wan said. “You must admit that _that_ much is at least typical of your people. And it would not be the first time Mandalorians have fought against the Jedi.”

“I'd expected better from the great Master Kenobi than bringing up ancient history,” Satine said coldly. “We are a new people, a people who respect the sovereignty of others – which is more than I can say for your Republic.”

“Are the memories and opinions of the past so easily swept away?” Obi-wan replied. He did not touch upon the second part of her accusation; he didn't understand it. But if he were to ask her to clarify her statement, or get into an argument about it, then they could easily be sidetracked onto a different topic. He hadn't come here for a cultural exchange – interesting as that might perhaps be. 

For a moment Satine said nothing. Then she stood up abruptly. “Perhaps you would accompany me on a walk through the gardens,” she said. “You might find it illuminating.”

\----

The gardens were a pleasant enough spot in the otherwise featureless grey of the city buildings, but the plant life was sparse enough that Obi-wan felt it barely deserved its name. He suspected than Mandalorian culture simply did not value such things particularly highly. Satine had likely brought him here merely because she thought it would appeal to him, not because she particularly enjoyed it herself. Here outside she had masked herself and become the Mand'alor her people expected to see. As she passed by those others also enjoying the fresh air, she received respectful nods and salutes in equal measure. 

“I meant what I said,” Satine told him, as they wandered the path at a leisurely pace. “It _is_ good to see you again, even if under these circumstances.”

“Your rule appears to be going well,” he said. “Mandalore is clearly prospering, despite leaving the Republic.”

“A choice we had to make, and one I would repeat if it were offered to me for a second time,” Satine replied. “I fear that if you – and the other Jedi – can be complicit in the Republic's war, then our cultural divide must be far greater than I had ever thought or feared.”

“I fear I don't understand your objections,” Obi-wan said, speaking frankly. “We weren't the aggressors here. The Separatists started this war; we are only defending ourself.”

“You're a fool Master Kenobi if you think _that_ is my objection,” Sabine said sharply. “I made my protests clear at the outset of your war – I was ignored. If I ignored all the ways your Republic is flouting the basic rights of sentients I would be a hypocrite, and I am firmer in my beliefs than that.”

“I am afraid I was never made aware of any such protests,” Obi-wan said. He spoke carefully, his lack of knowledge making him unsure. Satine spoke as if he should already know what she was so angry about. 

“I made a speech before your Senate,” Satine replied. “Do you mean to tell me no Jedi were in attendance, or that the Chancellor said nothing about it to you?”

“I have seen recordings of the session where you decreed that Mandalore would be leaving the Republic,” Obi-wan replied, still mystified. “I recall only that it was justified by Mandalore's long-standing desire for independence.”

“ _Haar'chak!_ ” Satine stopped dead. Her face was concealed by her helmet, but he could sense her rage – she always had been prone to righteous anger. He was well acquainted with how it felt in the Force. “Then you did not see the full speech. Cowards twice over! I spoke the truth and at least some part of them must have recognised that or they would not have edited my words.”

She wasn't lying. Obi-wan began to feel more uneasy. “I can understand editing the footage that was to be released to the media,” he said, “but surely the Senate wouldn't hide things from the Jedi.”

“You trust them that much? Ha! Do you see nothing wrong with what they have done in pursuit of this war?”

“The Chancellor's emergency powers are no more or less than your own as the Mand'alor,” Obi-wan protested. “Or perhaps you agree with the point of view that Jedi should be peacemakers and should never have agreed to lead the Grand Army? I have heard that one often, but my reply always will be that we do what we do to ensure the safety of the Republic and its way of life!”

“That's what you _should_ be doing, yes,” Satine replied. “I have no quarrel with that. I'll be plain, since it seems you are _not_ aware of what you have all done wrong. Your _army_ , Obi-wan! Those _slaves_ you bought from Kamino to do the work those people you protect are all too cowardly to dirty their hands with!”

“That's nonsense!” Simple denial was the only possible reaction that came to him in the face of that heated accusation. It was simply absurd. Satine surely had just misunderstood the situation. “The clones aren't slaves – slavery is illegal in the Republic.”

“I expected better of you Master Kenobi,” Satine snapped. “Those men were born with express purpose of fighting your war. No choices were ever given to them. Each life you paid for with Republic credits is a life of a slave and just because you call it something else means nothing.”

“We didn't _buy_ them. That money is to pay the Kaminoans for their food, their equipment, their training – that is all!”

“If a choice is made to bring a new life into the world you are responsible for that life! You feed a child, teach them, nurture them, and then you let them go forth and make their own choices! You don't pretend they're indebted to you simply for their existence.”

“Satine...” Obi-wan didn't know precisely at what point this conversation had gotten away from him, but it clearly had and he didn't know how to answer her. He had come here with diplomacy in mind but he seemed to be failing in that rather drastically. He was the Negotiator, he ought to be able to find the right words to explain that this was not what Satine thought, to appropriately answer her objections... but he could not. 

Satine turned away from him in disgust and began walking again. “As I thought,” she said. “You Jedi may be brave enough to go into battle alongside your slaves rather than hiding behind them, but you are no better than the Senate. You should leave, Obi-wan. If any of my people are conspiring against me with the Separatists then _I_ will find and deal with them.”

And then the world exploded in fire and smoke.


	2. Chapter 2

Black smoke billowed around him. A persistent ringing filled his ears. For a moment Obi-wan lay stunned where the blast had thrown him before instinct took over and propelled him to his feet. The thick dark cloud obscured exactly what had happened, but he was not dependent on his sight alone. He followed the prompting of the Force towards Satine. 

She too had been quick to recover from the shock of the explosion. When he found her she was staring at the bodies of those who had been less lucky than they had, and the glowing orange holo which rotated in the air above them. It was completely unfamiliar to Obi-wan, but judging from the personal edge to Satine's rage the same was not true of her. 

“How _dare_ they?” Satine shouted, whirling on him as he approached. Her robes were a little scorched but otherwise she appeared unharmed. “They call themselves Mandalorians – only a _coward_ would do something like this!”

“You know who was responsible then?” Obi-wan asked mildly. 

“They call themselves Death Watch,” Satine replied. In her anger she seemed to have forgotten her intention to throw him off her planet. “Up until now they'd contented themselves with petty vandalism, spraying their symbol on the sides of buildings, things of that ilk. They're supporters of the Old Mandalorian ideals – although Governor Pre Viszla has always denied any involvement with them. But I never thought they would stoop to _this_. This bomb was meant for me, I'm sure of it.”

“This was an assassination attempt?” Obi-wan was as surprised as she was. “I thought your people didn't go in for that kind of thing.”

“So did I,” Satine replied, with enough venom to kill a gundark. 

The smoke was beginning to dissipate. Those Mandalorians who had not been injured by the blast were each standing posed ready for anything, blasters drawn, helmeted heads scanning the gardens for the slightest threat to present itself. The two Royal Guard came running to Satine's side as soon as they were able to see where she was, although she brushed away their concerned questions about her health irritably. 

“If you're still here assassin, come out and face me like someone with honour!” she shouted to the crowd at large. No-one seemed willing to take her up on that offer. 

“You should return to the palace, milady,” Obi-wan suggested. “They may try again.”

“Let them!” Satine snapped. “I _will_ find who did this.”

“We should begin by interviewing everyone here,” Obi-wan began to say, and then stopped as a figure in the crowd turned and ran, darting away around the rubble left by the explosion. Before he could begin to think about stopping her Satine gave chase. He couldn't let her go alone. She was _more_ than capable, as he was well aware, but he still felt... oddly protective of her. 

By the time he caught up with their lead, Satine had the man cornered on a wide balcony which led out onto what had to be at least a twenty-foot drop. She had twin blaster pistols trained on their suspect and the two of them were in the midst of a shoot-out, dodging, diving, or taking the odd glancing hit on beskar'gam that was made to take just those kind of impacts. 

“Stop this, both of you!” Obi-wan called out, calling his lightsaber from his belt to his hand and igniting it in one swift motion. He had no desire to be hit by a stray blaster bolt. 

The suspect glanced at him, clearly decided that he was outmatched, and made a run for the lip of the balcony, shouting out something in Mando'a that had the sound of a slogan. As he reached the edge two tongues of flame leapt from the jet-pack Obi-wan now saw that he was wearing – but Satine put a well-placed shot into it and it spluttered and died. The man disappeared out of sight. Obi-wan ran to the balustrade to see the unmoving body now sprawled on the floor several stories below, having cratered the tempered glass all around him. 

“ _Satine_ ,” Obi-wan said, appalled. 

“That is how a duel against the Mand'alor _should_ be done,” Satine replied, joining him at the railing. “Face to face, with honour. Although given his cowardice I'm of a mind not to allow him the respect of a proper burial.”

“He might have given us useful information about Death Watch,” Obi-wan pointed out, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his voice. He would gain nothing by antagonising Satine, but he couldn't simply stand by and let what had happened pass by without comment. 

“His body may give us some clues,” Satine replied. “But I must point out Master Kenobi that he was trying to kill me.”

“You could still have spared his life.”

“Honour demanded otherwise,” Satine said. “Both his and mine.” She looked at him for a moment – though he could not read her through the mask of the Mand'alor, nor through the Force. “I shall allow you to stay Obi-wan, for now. At least until we get to the bottom of this bombing.”

He wasn't going to argue – this was what he had wanted. “What is the next step in our investigation then?” he asked. 

“It is far past time I went to speak of Governor Viszla myself. I have never believed that he isn't involved with Death Watch _somehow._ He is too much of a die-hard when it comes to his beliefs to be otherwise. You will accompany me to the moon Concordia – and we shall see what we find there.”

\----

Things happened swiftly after that. Satine left Obi-wan under the watch of her Honour Guard only long enough to arrange for one of her personal shuttles to be made ready to transport them both to Concordia. Soon he found himself being ushered on board alongside a power-sled with a closed compartment and stasis-system – no doubt _that_ contained the body of the recently departed assassin. Obi-wan skirted it carefully, leaving the Honour Guard to store it as their own custom dictated, and followed the presence of Satine in the Force. He found her in the shuttle's cabin, deep in thought. She looked up as he entered. 

“Do you recall Pre Viszla from your last visit to Mandalore?” she asked him. 

Obi-wan shook his head. “I'm afraid I don't, milady.”

Satine nodded as though she had been expecting this answer. “House Viszla was only one amongst many back then,” she said. “As Administrator Almac mentioned, the Houses which supported the ideals of Old Mandalore were all exiled to Concordia after I won the throne, House Viszla amongst them. But political enemies or not, they are still Mandalorians. They still have the right to decide their own affairs. Some years ago they elected Pre Viszla Governor of Concordia, and he has been petitioning me to reverse my decision of their exile ever since.”

“And you believe he is behind this... Death Watch group?” Obi-wan asked. 

“Death Watch have been able to get away with things that shouldn't be possible unless they have an ally with influence,” Satine told him. “Pre Viszla claims he is hard at work trying to identify this individual, but I very much doubt that.”

“ _Could_ it be someone on Mandalore itself?”

“As I said, my people are loyal,” Satine said, clearly irritated by the question. “I will not hide the fact that the Old Mandalorians make no secret of their views – their arguments for a return to Mandalore's Imperial past are available for any of my citizens to view. But they are not arguments with either merit or weight.”

“You don't fear such things might sway the political mood against you?” Obi-wan asked. 

“I am Mand'alor by virtue of my martial abilities _and_ the rightness of my beliefs,” Satine replied. “I rule by consent of the Mandalorian people. If they withdraw that consent then I shall fight to win it again, but I have no fear of that happening. None have come forth to challenge my rule yet.”

“The assassin...” Obi-wan began.

“That Death Watch coward doesn't count,” Satine replied. “He attacked me without honour.”

Obi-wan reflected that he still did not truly understand the Mandalorian mindset, because this didn't entirely make sense to him. It shouldn't be as hard as it was. He was a Jedi Knight. He had been trained in the ways of hundreds of cultures across the Republic, as well as schooled to maintain an open-mindedness in the face of unknown ways he might encounter. Besides, he had spent months here when he was younger, during their Civil War. And yet... 

“Pre Viszla will not be pleased that I am bringing an outsider to Concordia,” Satine said, ignoring his long pause. “But I am still his Mand'alor; if he objects, he can fight me on it.” 

She didn't mean a simple argument, Obi-wan knew. Internally, he sighed. 

The shuttle had cleared Mandalore's atmosphere by now. The moon was swiftly approaching. Even from this distance he could see that the satellite's surface was scored open in many places and scattered with the bright lights of settlements visible on the darkened side, where the view of these was not obscured by dark orange clouds. It had looked very different the last time he had seen it, all those years ago. 

“Concordia used to be an agricultural zone, didn't it?” he asked. 

“Once,” Satine agreed. “It became a mining base towards the latter part of the civil war, and the Old Mandalorians had no interest in changing that. The moon is rich in the base materials required to forge our beskar'gam; it's the main source of their income. They are more than wealthy enough to import any food they require from other planets within my Protectorate.”

My Protectorate – that seemed unusually possessive. A mere slip of the tongue? Obi-wan did not like that some part of him clearly had doubts. Nothing he had seen thus far had given him any reason to think that Satine's convictions had wavered in the slightest. 

Their shuttle sank down, cutting through the dirty clouds, approaching a mountain range in the distance which grew swiftly in the viewport. There was a building complex of some kind nestled up against the foothills; shining metal within an outer wall, with several impressive towers standing looking out over the plains below. It was to one of those that they headed, landing in a hanger bay near the apex. 

A small party of three were waiting for them outside. All were in beskar'gam – Obi-wan doubted he would see anyone not wearing it on Concordia, given that for a true Mandalorian it was near taboo to be seen without it. However it was clear which of them must be Pre Viszla; he wore a half-cape over his shoulder patterned with what Obi-wan could only assume were the markings of his House. 

“Mand'alor the Peacemaker,” Viszla said, saluting in the Mandalorian way. “You are most welcome to Concordia.”

“Thank you Governor,” Satine replied. She waved towards Obi-wan. “This is Master Obi-wan Kenobi, of the Jedi Council.” She mentioned nothing of why he might be here. 

Pre Viszla spoke in Mando'a. Obi-wan had picked up a small scattering of the language during the civil war, enough to know that the man was not being polite about him or his presence here at all. In Mando'a, the word for an outsider was the same as that for 'exile' and 'soulless' – it hadn't been acceptable for a long time, amongst the New Mandalorians at least. 

“I will bring who I want, where I want,” Satine said, in Galactic Basic. 

“You're letting the Republic interfere in Mandalore's affairs,” Viszla replied. “ A _true_ Mand'alor would never do such a thing.”

“Are your blasters behind your words, or only the noise of the wind?” Satine asked. Governor Viszla met the challenge with a glare... but that was all. 

“I'm sure the Mand'alor knows what she's doing,” he said. “Thank you for returning the body of that assassin, by the way. From what I've heard about the attack, it's more than he deserved. You believe he's associated with Death Watch?”

“If all of Death Watch is as cowardly as he was then I clearly have nothing to fear from them,” Satine said. Obi-wan felt Visza's flicker of anger in the Force, and took note of it. He agreed with Satine; this man was not to be trusted. Of course, he was sure the Mand'alor had a plan to investigate him further. 

“I've never condoned violent methods of resolving the dispute between our peoples, Mand'alor,” Pre Viszla said. “We are all Mandalorians, after all – and we already tried that once.” He smiled. “You New Mandalorians won the war of arms, so all that honour leaves us is the war of words. We shall be a little more resilient on that front, I think you'll find.”

“We shall see, Governor.”

“We must attend to the body now,” Viszla continued. “But you will be joining me for dinner tonight?”

Satine nodded. “I am looking forward to it,” she said. 

The Governor saluted her again and left, trailing his two guards behind him as they followed the path of the coffin out of the hanger. Satine turned to Obi-wan. 

“Am I invited to this dinner?” Obi-wan asked, with a certain amount of humour. He could imagine Satine bringing him along either way, merely to anger Governor Viszla. 

“I'm afraid not,” Satine replied. “Something we will be taking advantage of.”

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow. “You have a plan?”

“I need you to search the area around the city,” Satine told him. “Particularly near the mines. Death Watch has to have some way of leaving Concordia without being detected. Ships small and fast enough to avoid our scanners. If Viszla is involved, there should be some sign of Death Watch nearby.”

“I understand.” A thought struck him, and he reached into a pouch on his belt. “Here, take this. If you wear it during the dinner I'll be able to let you know right away if I find anything.”

“Very well.” Satine took the ear-bud from him, then gestured to the far wall of the hanger. “There are swoop-bikes over there. Help yourself. And try to keep out of trouble. I want information, not even more problems.”

“I'll have you know I'm always very careful,” Obi-wan replied. “I'll be back before you know it.”


End file.
